In Response

I hesitated.

I second-guessed.

I hovered the mouse over the publish button, wondering if I really wanted to share that much.

But I pushed myself to open up.

After publishing “The Real Me,” I asked myself if it was really a post I wanted to share on Facebook. I thought, “Maybe I should just let my small trickle of people who still might check my blog come across it on their own . . . eventually.” But I pushed myself again to share, to confide, to trust.

Even after that, even when I went to bed that night, the thought kept creeping into my mind that I could just . . . delete it and pretend it never happened. But I didn’t.

And I’m glad I didn’t (mostly). I was amazed at the response I got. It was a flood of comments, Facebook comments, private messages, texts and even phone calls. I never knew I could rally so much support with just one bad day.

“I feel the same way,” so many moms said.

“You’re not alone.”

“I’ll be there for you.”

“Call me.”

“Let’s support each other.”

“Being a mom is hard for me too.”

I never expected such an outpouring. It was a great reminder that I’m not alone and that maybe I’m more normal than I think. Do you ever get that What’s-wrong-with-me? feeling? I feel like that sometimes on my bad days. But now, I almost feel like I can answer that feeling with, “absolutely nothing. It’s just a bad day.”

The reason I say I’m mostly glad I didn’t delete the post is because I’m afraid I might have raised too much alarm from some friends. It wasn’t a cry for help as much as an acknowledgement that I don’t always have it together. I know I lamented a lot about different things, but I was venting. I’ve been holding on to those feelings of loneliness for a long time. It felt so much better just to get it out. The people who know me well understand that I have to dump out all the things that are bothering me from time to time.

I realize the pictures of my house were quite shocking, and I know of one person who would have preferred if I had omitted them (Sorry sweetie). (The weekend allowed for much improvement, even if things aren’t spotless yet.) But I get so tired of everything having to be perfect. The fact is that life is messy. When I have a baby, life has to slow down, I have to lower expectations and give myself credit for the small things. The to-do list builds up. Sometimes I can be okay with that, and other times, it gets really overwhelming.

Let me back up and explain a little bit. Last Thursday wasn’t just a bad day for no particular reason. I was really stressing over the rental of our old house in Oregon because of some new developments that I won’t discuss here. Thinking about that house got me thinking too much about life within those walls and life in Oregon. Those thoughts (probably combined with the despicable weather we were having here) made me feel all sorts of homesick. Add to that the fact that Grant was working late that night, and it was the perfect recipe to get me down in the dumps.

When I need to talk to an adult, whether I’m sad or just wanting to converse with a real, live, grown-up, I pretty much have 3 usual people I want to talk to: Grant, my mom, and my sister, Beth. Since Grant is a busy man when at work and my mom works and lives 2 time zones away, I end up talking to Beth the most (only 1 time zone away). When Grant isn’t home, she is my rock. I’m so glad for the relationship we have. She’s always there for me, and I love catching up with her and hearing about what’s going on with her and her family.

Beth and her son came to visit shortly after Cecilia was born.

While I love my relationship with my sister, I’ve been starting to feel like I need to form more bonds, branch out my support. I need to connect more with the people who live close to me. I need some backup in case Beth isn’t available. I don’t want to pull away from her at all, but I think I do need to do a little work to add to some of the friendships in my life.

I’m usually only good at maintaining one good friendship in my life at a time. I may have other friends, but I don’t invest in them the same amount of attention and trust as I would my main friend. I see my sister and the many relationships she has with friends and family, and sometimes I think I want more. There was one day that I was struggling, and Beth told me about how she had been having a hard time when a friend who lived close by came and helped her with just what she needed. I was happy she had that support, but I was a little bit jealous. The thought keeps creeping into my mind, and I might even call it a prompting, that I need to nourish some more friendships.

When I was feeling down on Thursday, I had all these names swimming through my mind of people I could maybe try calling just to chat. I was nervous and couldn’t figure out who to try first. I prayed. I prayed that I might know who I should contact. So often, I’m frustrated by how easy it feels to share with EVERYONE on Facebook that I’m having a bad day but so hard to choose just ONE person to talk to about it. Maybe it’s because people on Facebook can choose if they want to respond, but if I call someone, it feels like I’m putting them on the spot.

I don’t know why, but that’s when I started feeling like I should just write it on my blog. It was therapeutic to spew all my feelings that had been swimming in my mind that day. Once I was done writing, I felt better already. I never would have imagined the response I would get would show me I had even MORE options of people to lean on than I had in mind originally. It was like a great big message over a blow horn saying, “JUST ASK!”

So I have a challenge for myself, and maybe for all of you who told me you feel the same way about reaching out to others. I’ve decided to push myself to branch out and nourish more of my friendships. I want to feel like I have a community (even if it’s a small one) of people I can trust, and they can lean on me, too. Of course, I’m still going to call my sister, but along with chatting with my sister, I’m going to challenge myself to call (or text in a pinch, but preferably call) one other person a week just to chat. That way, I might feel a little more trusting to confide in someone I’ve already talked to when I need to vent or cry or whatever. Plus, now that I know that so many other moms feel like I do, maybe I can be there to support someone when they need it. I even made a list of people who said I should call them, and I’m just going to go down the list, one person a week. That way I won’t stress over who to call; I’ll just do it.

I’ve already made a start. There’s a very kind lady at church who has offered several times to come over and help me out with baby and housework. I’ve been too embarrassed, feeling like I should only have her come if I can get the house clean first—yes, even when she has offered to come help me with my house! I left her a voicemail today about when she might want to come over, and I’m not going to fret about the house. Even if she wants to enjoy my baby while I get some cleaning done, it will be win-win.

I guess I’m realizing that without my family around, I have to create a family if I’m going to survive. I knew that when I moved here, but I started out strong and then backed off. That’s partly because I got burned by a misunderstanding with one potential friend. I guess I didn’t realize it, but I haven’t really wanted to put myself out there again.

I also was reminded by some people’s responses that I need to take some time for myself. I have been so focused on survival and holidays and caring for baby that I must have forgotten that. I’m going to try harder to carve out time for myself, even a few minutes. Whether I blog or do something crafty or try to exercise, I need to work something in.

When Curtis was a baby, the Relief Society at church was encouraging everyone to participate in a (half) triathlon. I signed up and started training 1-2 evenings a week. At first, I felt so guilty to be away from my baby. I don’t like leaving my babies when they’re little. I felt bad that I wasn’t there to comfort him if he woke after I put him to bed (which was often since there was only a wall between his bed and the bed where Phaedra was supposed to be going to sleep). After a while, I realized how good it was for me. My emotional health was the best it had ever been with a baby at home. Not only was I getting exercise, but I was training with friends and making connections. I got exercise and adult interaction at the same time! It was probably one of the best things I’ve done for myself, and by taking care of myself, it benefitted my family.

I haven’t gone running once since we moved here. It’s either been too cold, or I’ve been too pregnant. Grant and I have started discussing getting a fitness membership at his work once we get renters for the house. We discussed ways we could trade off kids and keep baby happy. I’m a little bit excited already. I think it could be a really good thing.

I just want to say thank you to all of you who have shown your concern for me. It means so much to me to know I am in your thoughts. I hope I didn’t worry anyone. I just needed to rip off the band aid so I wouldn’t have anything left to be scared to share, I guess. It has helped me so much to know that I’m not alone and that I’m normal. This motherhood journey is tough, but it is oh so good. I hope I can offer others support the same way people have supported me.

The Real Me

I recently read THIS POST on a blog called Finding Joy about New Year’s resolutions for moms. I was having a bad day, feeling tired, lonely, and overwhelmed. When I got to her #7 resolution, I started to cry. This was the #7 resolution:

I will share my heart in this journey. And this means being real. It means admitting when we don’t have it all together and allowing tears to fall and having that friend that we know that we can call at 2:19 am when we’re just afraid or tired or dealing with anxiety. And speaking of anxiety – there is no shame in admitting that one deals with that either – none. Sharing our hearts with [each] other honestly breaks down the perceived walls of perfection and makes us human. I mean truthfully, we’re all probably pretty deep down grateful for that mac and cheese in the cabinet but sometimes we don’t admit it. Being real means celebrating us.

This is my struggle.

I have friends here in Illinois. Maybe not as many as I had in Oregon, but I do have friends. My friends have told me to call them whenever I need to, even on the bad days. I even have had people from church I don’t know very well offer to help me out. Have I called any of them?

Friends—rarely.

Others—nope.

I could probably even call some of my friends back home, but I don’t. I’m too afraid they’ll feel like it’s oddly out-of-the-blue for me to contact them other than on facebook because I haven’t maintained a “random phone call” relationship since I moved. If I can get past that hang-up, I talk myself out of calling them because I need to forge friendships here where I am, with people who can maybe actually lend a hand if needed.

But then I don’t call anyone here.

I’m not being real. Or at least, not when I can help it. Sure, there was one day at church when I just couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, and I sat and sobbed to my friends until the tears ran dry. But they only see me like that when they catch me.

It’s SO HARD to call someone when I’m right on the verge of tears or already a blubbering mess. It’s so hard to expose myself like that, to trust, to share the messy, anxious, emotional side of myself.

But that’s what I need.

Most of the time, if I can just find someone to talk to, or cry to, I can get it out and move on. Sometimes I just have to know I’m not alone. Sometimes I just need to let all that emotion spill over, relieve the pressure.

I know I need to let people in, but I have so many fears, so many hold-ups. I don’t want to be the “Debbie Downer” friend who is only a burden. I don’t want to drag anyone down. I’m not very good at making casual phone calls and maintaining friendships over the phone. I’m afraid if I start calling when I need help, that will be the main time that I call, and people won’t see that I have normal times too. And then they might be tempted to fix me.

But I don’t feel like I need to be fixed. I don’t want to be diagnosed. I don’t want to be doctored. I don’t want to be drugged. I just want to be me, even if I’m a little messed up.

MAYBE I have just a touch of depression or anxiety. I don’t know. I have good days and bad. Some of the bad days are really bad, but I get through.

But let’s face it, this motherhood gig is tough! I’m still adjusting to dealing with four instead of three. Most of my days are days where I just get through the day. I try to enjoy moments here and there, but it’s not one big, pinterest-worthy, memory-making, endearment-filled journey. I’m in a tough stage right now. I’m always exhausted. I spend so much of my time changing, dressing, feeding, caring for, and cleaning up after people. I can hardly make a dent in the cleaning up after people. And while I try to teach my kids to help with the cleaning up, that can be more work than doing it myself. Sometimes it’s just more peaceful to leave it undone until I can get to it.

And I know I’m struggling more with this baby than I did with my others. I have pretty good reason to, if I say so myself. I’m really far from where I call home. I am trying to call this place home, but even when I do, it has an asterisk by it that indicates “temporary.”

That’s the only way I can stand being here.

I miss the moderate climate of Oregon. Some of the worst days in Oregon look like a picnic compared to this place! I miss my family. I am so often in regret that I don’t have any family around to fawn over and enjoy my baby with me. They’re missing it. Cecilia is our last baby, and by the time we live near family again, she’ll probably be just past toddlerhood. They’re going to miss all her baby stages. That breaks my heart over and over and over again. I could go on and on about how I miss my family, but maybe that’s another post on it’s own.

_ _ _

But it’s not all bad. My life is not all bad, and I do not see it as all bad. Little things keep me going. Like the wink Phaedra gives me when I pass by the family room door and the other two big kids are staring at the TV. Like the sweet smiles and snuggles of my baby. Like hearing my son say, “I wuv you, Mom,” out of the blue. Like Eleanor cleaning her room without being asked. Like the happiness we all experience when Daddy comes home. We may have chaos, but we have a lot of lovely chaos.

(Reading scriptures)

Like the feeling I get when I know my prayers have been answered. I think my testimony is growing being out here. I love my calling teaching Relief Society, a calling I never thought I could handle doing. It teaches me so much, and brings more of the spirit into my life. I know I have a Father in Heaven who loves me, and I feel that love, even when I’m having a bad day.

I’m trying.

I may not have it all together right now, but I’m trying.

I’m learning.

I’m growing.

And I’m going to try to let people in. I’m going to try to share my heart. Because I need that friend I can call anytime when I’m falling apart. I need as many as I can get.

A Few Things about Cece

She is 11 weeks old.

Her hair is slowly coming in and getting longer in front . . . and going out in back. She’s getting a bald ring around the back and sides of her head.

She loves when people talk to her, especially her family members.

She’s rather tolerant when young family members hold her.

She’s just starting to learn to laugh, and when she does, it gives her the hiccups (Phaedra was like this and STILL gets the hiccups if she laughs really hard).

She is most happy and pleasant during her first awake time in the morning.

She is happy and smiley after a good poop (aren’t we all?), and will smile and coo at you while you change her.

For the past 3-4 weeks, she’s been basically sleeping through the night in her own bed. This is NOT a blessing that has gone unacknowledged!

On the flip side, she does NOT like to sleep in her bed during the day. She wants to be held or snuggled up in the baby carrier, basically any way to keep Mommy from getting anything done or getting any extra rest. Mommy needs to learn to keep an early bedtime (that’ll be the day). She only  lasts for very brief periods of time asleep in her bed during the day. We’re working on that one.

Her eyes are still a deep blue so far, but Grant and I are pretty doubtful that we’ll have another fluke blue-eyed child.

She is a perfect fit for our family. Sometimes I throw all responsibility aside and just enjoy soaking it in, loving on my baby. This usually involves lots of kissing and me enjoying the feel of her soft head or cheeks against my cheeks. I can hardly handle how soft and adorable she is!

The Day Cecilia Was Born

September 13th at 2:33 am.

When Curtis first held her, he leaned in by her ear and asked, “You okay, baby? You okay?”

Cecilia Doris Matthews

6 pounds, 2 ounces. 19.5 inches long.

7 Months

Well, this project only took me 7 months to complete!Do you ever have a project that you just keep setting aside over and over again? This was that project!

As I was working on minion hat after minion hat last November and December, my own kids kept begging me to make something for them—especially Phaedra. So come January when I had all the Christmas projects behind me, I let her choose what she wanted me to make her. After 6 minion hats (nope, still haven’t blogged them), I was SO relieved when she chose Hello Kitty instead.

I got all the yarn I needed. I got started. And then I reached the point on the hat where it said, “finish off and weave in ends.” I set the hat aside. And it sat. And sat. And sat . . . The crochet part was no problem, but I think I was just too burnt out and sick and tired of weaving in all the little yarn tails on all the little details!

I think the only thing that got me going on it again was the fact that baby #4 is going to make her arrival in just a few months, and I’m feeling the need to do some nesting crafts. I hold to a strict rule that I can’t start another project until one is finished (especially same type of project), so that lit a fire under me to finally force myself to finish Hello Kitty. My poor Phaedra gave up begging me months ago.And now she has to wait for it to actually get cold again to need to wear it (poor girl).

I promise Hello Kitty has a left ear. It’s just hiding behind the bow. I snapped these photos quickly before we hopped in the car to go the library, so I wasn’t paying that much attention to all the details.

I swear I do this every January. I work so hard to get handmade items done for people for Christmas, and I think I can keep the momentum going after the holiday and actually make some stuff for our family/house. So I get all the materials for a project, sometimes I even get started, and then there’s no deadline . . . no pressure . . . and it never gets done! Don’t ask me what ever happened to the fabric storage boxes I was going to make out of the beautiful organic fabric 2 years ago. Just don’t!

I’m extra proud of getting this hat done because I actually completed 2 Hello Kitty hats. I made the first one and decided it was just going to be way too small, so I started over and completed them both. I keep wanting to send the extra to a friend who might have a 2-3 year old girl (I’m guessing that would be a good fit), but all my friends with that age girl also have another girl (or two) who might be jealous—and I CAN’T force myself to make another one!! Anyone want to volunteer to solve my dilemma on that one?

I know I could save it for when this baby gets old enough to wear it, but then she’d also get Phaedra’s hand-me-down (assuming it survives). That’s a big chunk of her life to spend in a Hello Kitty hat. Ah well (shrugs).

P.S. I found the pattern for the hat HERE.